


talk dicky to me

by guineaDogs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Size Queen Keith (Voltron), ambiguously post s6, one sided conversations with genitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: Sometimes, when Shiro is slipping into deep sleep, he swears he hears Keith talking to someone. The possibility that Keith is actually talking to his dick doesn't cross Shiro's mind until...well, he's awake for it.Prompt 13 for the Sheith Prompt Party:  Keith talks to Shiro’s penis when he thinks Shiro is asleep. Spoiler alert: Shiro’s not asleep.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 214
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	talk dicky to me

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for 2k20's sheith prompt party, and it was such a blast!   
> I collaborated with [@tounyuuchops](https://twitter.com/tounyuuchops) on twitter; you can find their art embedded at the appropriate spot in the fic. 
> 
> (if for some reason it's not showing up anymore, let me know since it could be a hosting issue!)
> 
> and of course, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/guineaDogs).

There's something thrilling about new relationships. There's an addicting element to it: the discovery, the puppy love, the excitement of being able to steal away any amount of time with his new love interest, boyfriend—whatever. This one, although technically still in early stages, is different, because it's Keith.

Keith, his best friend who he's known for years. Shiro can already feel it down in the depths of his soul: there is never going to be any reason to get to know anyone else like this ever again. No need to play an awkward round of twenty questions tucked away in a diner, no labors to test whether this is a deep, profound compatibility or merely an instance of sexual attraction combined with loneliness and a desperate need to  _ truly _ be seen.

It's not necessary to look any further than Keith. Shiro could mentally berate himself for not seeing it sooner—for not recognizing, or being willing to act on his  _ own _ feelings—but the important thing is that eventually they got to where they were both supposed to be. Together.

Having known Keith for as long as he has, there's a lot of things they already know about each other. Their friendship, when it was merely that, was as such that they knew each other's darkest secrets and deepest insecurities. He knows how to read Keith, knows what it means when he lifts his shoulders while his arms are crossed. He knows what Keith's microexpressions mean, and how to anticipate his needs.

There isn't a manual for how to handle Keith and give him what he needs, but if there was, it would be burned into the forefront of Shiro's mind. And for every different expression, for every different movement that makes up Keith's body language, Keith is just as proficient in reading him.

After everything he's gone through over the years, Shiro is more grateful for that than he can put into words. He doesn't have to explain to Keith what's wrong when he abruptly and unpleasantly wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart racing, limbs flailing. Keith understands better than anyone else could, and knows exactly what he needs to come back down, to ground himself again. 

Sleep is a fickle thing, one that doesn't always return to him on nights like that. When it does happen, Shiro is convinced it has everything to do with listening to the thrum of Keith's heartbeat, with being able to hold Keith close to him, with Keith's fingers smoothing through his hair, with his thumb brushing over Shiro's cheekbones.

It's a reminder of what they've overcome, that they've survived, that they're still here.

Of course, this isn't to say that he has nothing to learn about his boyfriend—there's still multitudes to learn, and many things he wants to try with Keith—but it feels like because he already knows the fundamentals of who Keith is as a man, because Keith isn't a stranger by any means—everything new he learns about Keith feels like it has greater value and deeper meaning.

It could just be because he's smitten, but it's more than that. They're a month or so in, and Shiro can clearly envision a future with Keith he's never imagined with anyone else.

Given the opportunity, Shiro would wax poetic forever about how much he adores Keith. It's already something of a pastime: wearing his heart on his sleeve, divulging to Keith just how proud he is of him, and the sort of capable leader he's become. He's so strong, so fierce, so  _ beautiful. _ He loves the way Keith flushes, the way he looks equally torn between wanting to protest and allowing himself to thrive under the praise.

He enjoys those moments, but that probably says very little. He enjoys  _ all _ of the time he has with Keith: the stolen moments in his office between meetings, lunches together when their schedules align, even the brief video calls when obligations take them away from one another. His favorite moments, of course, are the ones where they're off, where they aren't racing against a clock to make the most of whatever time remains between now and the next meeting, or now and the moment where being overworked catches up with them.

Still, they make the most with the time they have and it works.

Perhaps he's too much of a romantic, but Shiro is certain they were made for each other. When their mouths slot together, their kisses feel like they're the solitary thing keeping him alive. Keith's body fits against his perfectly, and there's a natural ease to their encounters.

It doesn't matter if they're crowding each other in a shower stall or a utility closet, kissing each other, all tongue and teeth until they pull away breathless with swollen lips. It doesn't matter if it's Keith squeezing under his desk under the guise of  _ debriefing _ , or bending him over in whosoever quarters were closest. It's perfect. Their chemistry is spot-on; everything they do together is like  _ fireworks _ , hot and bright burning pleasure—

There's just one problem.

* * *

He’s panting against the curve of Keith's neck, and the sound of sweat-slick skin on skin fills the room as Keith clutches Shiro's shoulders for purchase. Keith digs his nails into the taunt muscle underneath his fingertips—causing Shiro’s skin to  _ burn  _ something sharp and raw—meeting Shiro's ruts with his own frantic movements. Keith tightens his thighs, encapsulating Shiro’s cock between them as he ruts into them.

"Fuck, Shiro—" His words are a growl, rumbling low in his throat as he juts his hips out, grinding them against Shiro's. Keith’s cock throbs with need, wedged between their torsos, hot and slick. Shiro recognizes the edge in Keith’s words; he knows just how close he is by sheer virtue of how Keith’s tone is verging on desperate. 

"I've got you, baby," Shiro coos against the shell of his ear, and as Keith arches his back to press against him more firmly, Shiro tightens his arm around him, keeping him pinned against the wall of Shiro’s quarters. He wedges his metal prosthetic between their chests, curling his cool fingers around Keith's cock. During one of their first encounters, Shiro discovered that Keith responded particularly well to being touched with that hand.

Truth be told, he's yet to figure out if it's the temperature difference that does it for Keith, or the cyborgishness of it, but Shiro could care less. Keith likes it, and he twists his wrist on an upward stroke, prompting Keith to attempt to smother his moans by clamping down on Shiro's shoulder, that's all he cares about. He would do anything for Keith. He would realign the universe for him, if it was asked of him.

Until such a time arises, Shiro gives him what he can: touches and murmured praise that continue even after Keith spills into his hand. Keith's sounds and trembles get to him as much as the friction he's fucking himself into, and when his pleasure tips over, he's coaxing messy final kiss from the man in his arms. 

Eventually, Shiro loosens his grip, and Keith slips away so they can both clean up. It’s a quickie, but one satisfying enough to wrap up a long day with an undoubtedly early start on the horizon. As soon as he's washed his face and brushed his teeth, he sprawls out on his bed. No clothes, not even beneath blankets. Despite the regulated air temperature, he's still a little warm.

"Are you going to stay?" He queries, watching as Keith emerges from the bathroom, bending over to gather his clothes that inevitably found themselves strewn about the room.

The question makes Keith freeze, though, and he looks over his shoulder toward him. "If that's okay."

It takes the remaining strength Shiro has not to snort at Keith's hesitation. This is still new, but even before they began exploring this aspect of their relationship, Shiro wouldn't have turned him away. "More than," he replies, beckoning him toward the bed. "Come here, baby."

Keith is as exhausted as he is. Shiro can see it in his eyes, in the slump of his shoulders, and in the small smile Keith gives him before climbing into bed and collapsing beside him. Keith immediately nestles close, resting his head on the crook of Shiro's shoulder, and Shiro's more than happy to tuck his arm around him and pull him closer.

It's new. But it's exactly how things are supposed to be, and it’s apparent by how quickly and easily both of them relax into one another. There's a certain sort of tranquility Shiro feels in being able to hold Keith close like this.

"That was fun," Keith says eventually, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to Shiro's shoulder and nuzzle his face against him. "Don't get me wrong, everything we've done is great. But you have  _ got _ to let me have a go at that." He pointedly gestures, and Shiro’s gaze follows.

And there it was. The singular issue in their relationship that they'd yet to work through. They're both stubborn, and it's not surprising they've come to a stalemate. Shiro exhales, frowning. "Keith."

"If you say you're worried about hurting me one more time, I swear—"

"But I  _ am _ concerned."

"Shiro." Keith sounds earnest in his protest, and it adds to the overall ridiculousness of this point of contention. "I can handle your cock."

Shiro doesn't want to get into a lengthy discussion about it now, not when he can feel exhaustion creeping in. He knows how it goes; it won't take long before he's completely unable to keep his eyes open. "We'll talk about it later." He fails to stifle a yawn. "I promise."

“I’m holding you to it.” Keith is quiet for a moment, and in the darkness of the room, Shiro can feel Keith watching him. Long fingers thread through his hair, and Shiro can’t help but close his eyes, soaking up the affection. “Sleep well.”

As he drifts off into slumber, he feels almost certain that Keith’s still talking, but he’s too far gone to make sense of it, or to truly determine whether it’s real or not.

* * *

Something he’s noticed, in the moments between dozing and falling asleep, sometimes Keith talks. He’s always too far gone to latch onto any of his words—he just recognizes that he’s speaking softly, like he doesn’t want to disturb Shiro’s rest. And his voice is beautiful, just like the rest of him. Shiro never holds onto any thoughts more than that; bone-deep exhaustion always wins out. 

He doesn’t ask Keith about it. He assumes it’s just Keith talking to Krolia, or any number of the Blades. Shiro doesn’t want to bring it up because he doesn’t want Keith to change his behavior or feel stifled when they share a bed, and most importantly, even as he’s drifting off he loves listening to Keith.

Keith could read a dictionary, a directory, or something as equally boring and Shiro would soak up every moment of it.

In any case, Shiro has accepted that Keith has hushed meetings or something when Shiro's drifting off to sleep, and as time goes on, he thinks little of it. That is, until it all comes to a head.

It's another long day, one where Shiro relieves most of his pent up stress in the gym, and then subsequently in his quarters's shower, fucking Keith's thighs. The moment he'd finished, he sinks down onto his knees to both clean up the mess he made, and to give Keith his.

The water's getting tepid when they finally stumble out, and when Shiro eventually settles down on his bed, it's with the knowledge that short of a dire emergency, there's nothing that will make him leave this spot on the mattress. Shiro closes his eyes for no reason other than to just fully relax and remove himself from the full docket of meetings and politics that drained him more than anything he'd done when he was actually seeing action.

Shiro feels the mattress dip down with increasingly familiarity. He doesn't say anything, but neither does Keith. It's a comfortable silence, and Shiro is somewhat aware that if he doesn't move now, he'll end up dozing on top of the blankets completely nude. Still, he makes no effort to move; the air feels nice against his skin, and he'd rather feel properly cooled before he moves.

It's not long before he hears Keith talking. This time, he's awake enough to actually make sense of what Keith is saying.

"He's asleep," Keith says. It's very clear that he's still sitting on the bed rather than laying down. He's probably on the phone. "Fuck, I want you."

Wait,  _ what— _

Shiro's eyes fly open, and he peers over at his boyfriend. His boyfriend who is not on a phone, or any kind of device at all, but is instead simply sat on the bed, staring at Shiro’s dick. He feels like all of his questions are caught in his throat, and he can only stare at Keith with wide eyes.

“I don’t know how to get through to him. Like, yeah, you’re big. But he really thinks I can’t take you? So what if it hurts a little, maybe, that would just make it  _ better.  _ You want it, I want it, why’s he—”

"Keith?"

His boyfriend immediately falls silent, his relaxed posture now completely rigid. At that moment, Keith reminds Shiro of a cornered animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen. Except Shiro's heard him, he sees him, and they both know there's no way to proceed without having a conversation about what just transpired.

"Were you talking to my dick?"

Keith won't look at him. Shiro sits up, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder while Keith shields his face with one of his hands. He's probably embarrassed, and Shiro can't fault him for that—he feels a little surprised himself, to say the least—but the last thing he ever wants is for Keith to feel badly or uncomfortable, especially around or with him.

He doesn't push Keith to answer the question; it's rhetorical, and Shiro knows Keith will talk to him when he's ready. When it comes to him, Shiro has infinite patience, so he shifts gears to merely try to reassure Keith however he can. He strokes his thumb over warm skin as he squeezes his shoulder, nudges at him with his Altean arm in an attempt to coax him into his lap.

Keith complies and leans back against him, resting his head against his shoulder. "That was weird, wasn't it?"

"A little," Shiro responds, smoothing his hand through Keith's long hair, pushing damp fringe away from his face. "But maybe I like weird."

He's met with a resounding snort, but it's not a dismissive one. "I thought you were asleep." Keith offers as an explanation, though it really doesn't address the big  _ why _ hanging over them.

"Nope. I was just resting my eyes. Do you often, uh, do that?"

Rather than a direct answer, Keith shifts in his lap enough that he can meet Shiro's gaze. "I know it's—dumb, or whatever. It's just. Shiro, you know I love you, right?" It's one of those things that would be  _ too soon _ in any other circumstance, but this is Keith, and Shiro knows the love has been there since... forever, really.

"Of course. And I love—"

"I love  _ every _ part of you. The good, the bad. I love everything that makes up who you are. And yeah, there's the added bonus that you're literally the  _ hottest _ man in the entire universe—"

"Keith—"

"I just don't understand why you've been so reluctant. You can't fuck my thighs forever, and you're not going to break me."

Shiro knows this. "It's not you, Keith, but it has been an issue in the past." 

Keith snorts. "What, did other men take one look at your cock and run? Weak." He clears his throat. "Anyway, that isn't me. I want all of you, forever, and I'm never leaving you."

That makes Shiro smile, just a little. He also knows there's a lot of truth to it. There isn't a stronger, more capable person out there, he's certain of it. He knows what Keith has come up against and what he's still walked away from. "You want it that badly?"

"That's what I've been  _ saying."  _ There's an edge of impatience in Keith's voice, like it's on the verge of cracking due to the sheer frustration he feels.

He really isn't alone in that; it's not that Shiro hasn't wanted this. He enjoys fucking Keith's thighs, yes, just like he loves when Keith straddles his chest and fucks his pecs, and shoots all over his face. But his thoughts frequently drift to wondering what it would feel like to fuck Keith properly. He's fingered Keith; he knows how tight he is, how hot. He can imagine well enough how amazing it would feel to bottom out with Keith's heels digging into his back.

It's his love for Keith that holds him back. He knows he's large, and he knows from experience that it's not something that just anyone can handle. He can immediately cite several instances in his sordid past where intercrural sex was the only viable option outside of oral.

"If you're sure."

Keith rolls his eyes. "I've been sure for  _ years. _ "

Shiro doesn't know what it says about him, that it's that particular statement that makes him flush. "Fine. But only if you let me treat you right first."

* * *

There's a difference between how Shiro wants this to go, and what actually happens. He wants to properly romance his boyfriend; Keith deserves more than the world, and the least Shiro can do is treat him to a nice candlelight dinner with old classical music playing quietly to add to the ambiance. He's fairly certain he has some Eagle-Eye Cherry and Semisonic tracks somewhere.

Romantic that he is, he's got it all perfectly played out in his head: they have dinner, drink some sort of alien wine that tastes similarly to passion fruit, and for dessert, they head to Shiro's bedroom, where he already has to lowlights on. Maybe even flower petals on the bed. It's sweet, romantic, and he's able to make sure that Keith is enjoying all of this as much as he's intending.

His mistake is assuming two things: that anything regarding his personal time ever goes according to plan, and that Keith would have the patience for it in quite the manner Shiro's hoping for. Work shifts are long, meetings run late. Something or another happens somewhere in a far-off galaxy that has Keith out for a week unexpectedly. Truly—all of these things are typical, and he should have anticipated them.

The original evening he planned for their dinner comes and goes, and he's hesitant to set a firm date since there are far too many variables to consider especially before it's clear how long Keith will be away.

That isn't to say they go incommunicado; they check in with each other when they can. Seeing Keith's face, his fond smile, and the sweep of his dark hair across his forehead is Shiro's absolute favorite part of any day. In those conversations, they talk about a lot of things, and nothing at all. Inevitably, it veers in a particular direction, and for what feels like the fiftieth time, Keith insists that he doesn't need any sort of grand gesture or romancing.

_ You've already got me, Shiro. You've  _ always  _ had me. I just need you. _

* * *

Keith's return is late in the night, relatively speaking, but Shiro is still awake. He has a tendency to always find something to work on, and while he's more than capable of acknowledging there's a certain point in the day he should leave his office or the bridge, he finds himself still poking at his endless work when he's alone in his quarters.

It passes the time, and it needs to be done, so he fails to see an issue in his work ethic. Besides, if he were sleeping in his room, there's the chance that he wouldn't hear the rapping on his door, much less be able to get up from the couch to answer the door.

This late at night, without a call or message first, and without the urgency that an emergency would warrant, he knows it's Keith. The excited thrumming in his chest is there, and he's thrilled to be proven correctly.

The doors have hardly opened the entire way when Keith is on him. The other man throws himself at Shiro in such a way that he stumbles back as Keith's arm's wrap around his neck. Shiro's arms find his waist, holding fast as he can feel Keith murmuring into the nape of his neck.

"What's that, baby?" Shiro can't explain how perfect Keith feels in his arms. Their bodies slot together perfectly, like they're two halves of a whole.

"Missed you," Keith repeats, his words gravely in a way that suggests that he's not going to want to debrief anytime soon.

Shiro hums, sliding one of his hands upward along Keith's spine. The Marmoran outfit is always a thrilling sight; it clings to Keith's form in splendid ways. But Shiro has yet to fully grasp how it works enough to get him out of it, despite his efforts. "Are you hungry? I can cook—" Shiro's words startle to a halt when he feels Keith's mouth on his throat.

"Later. Just want you right now." He pointedly squeezes Shiro through his sweatpants. Despite the reservations he's had prior to this, Shiro doesn't have it in him to deny Keith any longer

Rather than a romantic venture to the bedroom, where perhaps Shiro carried Keith bridal style to his bed and laid him down as if he were the most precious treasure in the universe— (because he is, he  _ is _ ) —it's more of a stumble. It's not a far distance from the entrance to Shiro's quarters to the bedroom, but when Keith's crowding him, mouthing at every expanse of skin he can find as he's sliding his gloved hands under Shiro's shirt, sliding them upward over his chest— (and it feels  _ so good _ , which had been an exciting discovery the first time Keith wrapped a gloved hand around his cock, and now Shiro's certain he has some sort of pavlovian response to the most minor touches now) —tugging Shiro's shirt off overhead.

"You know -  _ ah _ ," Shiro swallows thickly, fighting back a groan as Keith testily twists one of his nipples. "It might be quicker if I just—" Rather than explaining further, he hurls Keith over his shoulder and turns on his heel, properly walking to his room.

"And you chastise me for being impatient," Keith teases. As soon as they're near the edge of the bed, Shiro sets him down. Keith makes quick work of his uniform, which is still an absolute marvel. During their short trek, Shiro'd let his hands wander, and even now, he's  _ still _ uncertain where the seams even are.

"Yeah, well—" His mouth is dry as he watches Keith step out of his uniform. Keith is always beautiful,  _ always _ , but Keith standing naked in front of him, all muscles and battle scars and long hair that's delightful to  _ tug _ is beyond phenomenal. One day he should ask Keith if he can take photos. But right now, they're sort of in the middle of a conversation, and moments from having actual penetrative sex for the first time. Focus. Shiro licks his lips subconsciously. "You are still much more impatient than I am."

Keith takes a step closer, then another. He's back in Shiro's space again, right where Shiro always wants him to be. He can smell the faint traces of Keith's shampoo—coconut and pineapple, maybe?—and it's dizzying in the best way as it mixes with Keith's own specific scent. "Maybe." Keith's lips twitch into an amused smile as his hands find the hem of Shiro's waistband. "But I see how hard you already are."

Keith's long fingers gently tug at the hem and teasingly slip beneath the fabric, and Shiro feels himself throb. It's the only item of clothing preventing him from being nude, and that knowledge is entangled with the knowledge that Keith's hands are mere inches from where he'd like them to be and Shiro  _ wants him. _

"It's all for you, Keith."

That does something. Shiro can't say exactly what, but there's a pleased rumbling in Keith's throat that Shiro will do anything to hear again. Keith pulls Shiro's sweats down, and before Shiro can register the cool air against his skin, Keith shoves him back. Shiro's back hits the mattress with a soft bounce, and he looks up in time to see his boyfriend crawling over him.

When their mouths meet again in another kiss, it's fervent. It's hot, all tongue and teeth and  _ possession. _ Shiro squeezes his hips, sliding his hands over Keith's thighs, pulling him closer in a way that has their cocks sliding together.

Shiro lifts his hips as he holds onto Keith's legs grinding up against him for any trace of contact he can get. To an extent, Keith is right: he's impatient, but not in the way that Keith probably thinks. He's impatient for physical contact, to feel Keith against him, but of course that's the case. Any extended time apart feels like too much, and now that Keith is here, Shiro feels at home, and he wants to savor every single moment that he can.

Keith groans into the kiss and breaks away from it. His pupils are blown with arousal, his lips are wet and swollen from their kisses. "D'you think if I get you off now, you'll be able to go again?"

He stares at him, slack jawed and gobsmacked. Keith's appetite is insatiable enough that Shiro's gotten into the habit of keeping drinks with electrolytes in his quarters when he can acquire them. "Yeah, I think so."

Keith  _ purrs _ and Shiro almost makes a mess of himself prematurely. It's a Galra thing, and perhaps he should hate it, but it's part of who Keith is, and there isn't a single part of him that Shiro doesn't adore.

He combs his fingers through Keith's long hair as Keith shimmies his way down. There's a pinch of a nipple here and there, a smattering of kisses and nips against his skin. Shiro's breath hitches, his back arches, his skin feels on  _ fire _ everywhere Keith is touching, and he's keenly aware of everywhere he isn't, and he just wants—

"There you are, Big Boy."

Keith's thumb and forefinger loosely encircle his throbbing cock, and Shiro feels a flush flood all the way down to his chest when he realizes that Keith isn't talking to  _ him. _ It's brazen; he's wide awake, he can hear Keith perfectly, and it occurs to him that while that was not previously the case, his awareness is  _ part of it. _ "Oh, fuck."

Those gorgeous eyes flit up toward him, and Keith's smirk is absolutely  _ wicked. _ He doesn't maintain eye contact for long, instead returning his gaze to Shiro's cock. Keith's other thumb rubs against the tip in a teasing touch, smearing precome. When he pulls that thumb away, it's to briefly suck the pad of it clean. "Yes, I've thought about you too. I  _ ache _ for you when I'm away, but I'm going to make it up to both of us. We'll get the easy one out now, but very soon I'm going to ride you so hard your head is going to explode." Keith pauses then, looking up to Shiro. "In the sexy way."

Shiro can't tell if he's more into this or more embarrassed. Maybe it's both. If he's honest there's a humiliating angle to this that  _ is _ getting to him. 

"I would hope as much," Shiro replies, clearing his throat in hopes of that having any impact on just how much he's blushing.

He doubts it actually works, because for a long moment, Keith merely stares up at him smittenly while slowly stroking Shiro's cock in an almost too-loose grip. "You're cute," he says, finally, and once more redirects his attention. His grip tightens, and Shiro can't help but fuck his hips upward into it. It's made even better when the head of his cock brushes against Keith's lips.

They part, and Keith darts his tongue across the slit, lapping up the pre. Shiro wants nothing more than to grab the back of his head and redirect Keith, showing him exactly where he wants his mouth to go. He knows Keith can handle that; he knows Keith likes it when he holds his head down in place and fucks up into his mouth until tears are streaming down his cheeks. This isn't the night for it, though, so Shiro resists the urge.

Keith seems keen on asserting himself, on taking what he wants, and Shiro wants to see this through more than he wants to give in to that particular urge. Instead, he brushes his knuckles along the side of Keith's cheek, strokes his thumb over his cheekbones, finds any excuse to keep his hands on Keith.

It's hard to tell for how long Keith teases him; the younger man makes a show of licking along the underside of the shaft, of sucking at the soft skin he finds along the way, of grinding his palm into Shiro's sack with just the right amount of pressure that has his toes curling and his head tilting back with unstifled moans. Shiro wants more, and he's not above playing dirty with a particularly intonated ' _ baby, please' _ to urge Keith along.

When Keith's mouth is properly on him and he's relaxing his throat and dipping his head downward, Shiro is hit with a stroke of brilliance. He's known his fancy new Altean arm has its uses, but he's not utilized it in this particular way, and he's curious to see how Keith will react to it.

His cock is encapsulated in  _ warm, tight, wet _ and he feels like he's in heaven as he watches Keith take all of him in. And Keith is so occupied, so fully immersed in being the beautiful cocksucker that he is, that he doesn't seem to notice Shiro lubing up the fingers on his mobile arm, or the fact that it's floating along its merry way to settle just behind Keith.

The moment he makes contact is completely obvious. A cool metal finger brushes against his hole, teasing the rim, and presses in. The moment it is, Keith's groan is muffled around Shiro's cock, which is still deep in his throat. The vibrations send waves of electricity down Shiro's spine, and he can't help himself when his hips buck up in response. His human hand nestles itself in Keith's hair, tugging firmly.

" _ Fuck, Keith." _

Keith's expression is a mix of arousal and pride, and it's with great vigor that he bobs his head, sucking, and lapping at his cock while Shiro takes his time spreading him open. When Shiro comes, Keith swallows down every last drop. He doesn't lessen his own ministrations, however. Instead, he continues to stretch and stroke, even as Keith buries his face into Shiro's thigh as he moans, hips jerking as Shiro milks his orgasm from him.

Shiro's panting, and propping himself up one arm as he looks down at Keith, who for the moment looks content between his thighs, nuzzling against his softening cock. Shiro's metal fingers, though removed, play with his hole, teasing and stretching the sensitive skin. Keith groans when a particular touch gets to him more than the rest, and buries his face into the hair on Shiro's upper thigh.

"You doing okay down there?" 

"Mmm," Keith responds. 

Silence fills the space between them. It's nice. All of this is nice. Shiro loves the way the remaining aftershocks of a solid orgasm feel throughout his body; there's a certain sort of muscular relaxation that can only be achieved this way. But more than that, he loves having Keith back home, back in close proximity. Loves the familiar weight and warmth against him. "I missed you too, you know."

"I know." Keith digs his chin into the meat of Shiro's upper thigh as he grins up at him. One of his hands roams over his opposite leg and hip. "One of these days I'm going to steal you away next time I have to leave."

"Hah. Sometimes, I think I'd like that." Shiro slumps back into his pillows, fingers tangling in Keith's luscious hair. As they enjoy the comfort and proximity they have to offer each other, Shiro allows himself to imagine a version of himself that is willing to let go of his responsibilities in favor of adventuring with his boyfriend all the time.

* * *

They continue touching one another idly, and it becomes clear when their respective refractory periods end. Keith groans, shifting to press into Shiro's touches, and his own become more insistent. Shiro is certain Keith apparently wanting him so much helps him along.

"I don't want you to hold back, Shiro."

"Okay, baby."

"Promise me." There's an edge in Keith's voice. He settles on Shiro's thighs, stroking his thumb along the length of Shiro's dick once more. It's the simplest of touches, really, but right then, with Keith touching him like this, looking like he wants to devour Shiro, he wants nothing more than to be an absolute feast for him.

"I promise. No holds barred. You're getting wrecked."

Keith laughs, shifting forward and leaning down to kiss Shiro. Shiro's hand immediately comes up to hold him there, to keep kissing him, tasting him for as long as he can. When Keith starts to pull away to sit up, Shiro follows him. His hands settle on Keith's hips, holding him steady as he eases down on Shiro's dick.

"Fuck, you're doing so good, Keith." Shiro kisses his cheek, his hair, his shoulder, everywhere that he possibly can while they're like this.

"I knew you were huge," Keith comments, voice hoarse from going as hard as he did earlier. "But you feel even larger like this."

"Is it too much?" Keith feels hot and impossibly tight around him, but all Keith has to do is say the word and he's more than content to fuck Keith's thighs instead for the rest of his life, or take Keith instead. Anything, everything, as long as it's what Keith wants.

Keith cups Shiro's cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. "Look at— _ ah,  _ me. You feel— It's good, Shiro. You're good. I just need a moment to adjust."

That moment comes and goes, and there's barely a transition between the two. One moment Keith is fully seated and letting his body learn to accommodate the intrusion, and the next he's pushing Shiro back into the mattress as he rides him.

It's amazing, and that doesn't even begin to cover it. No one in his life has ever taken his cock as well as Keith has, and Shiro can't help but be blown away by how amazing it feels to be in him, to feel Keith hot and tight and clenching around him. He's never looked more beautiful than he does right now: he's the perfect picture of pleasure with sweat glistening over his body, head tilting back when he finds just the right angle. 

Shiro wants to savor this moment forever, and wants how Keith looks right in this moment to be etched in his mind forever.

But he also wants more.

And Keith doesn't want him to hold back. He wants everything, and Shiro only wants to be a dutiful and attentive lover, so when he holds onto Keith's hip and flips them around, he immediately directs one of Keith's legs to rest over his shoulders as he drives home into him.

His grunts and moans are panted into Keith's shoulder. Keith's own sounds bounce off the walls, flood his ear canals, and as Keith's nails dig into his shoulders, his back,  _ scrape over his ass _ , he swears he's never experienced a better moment in his entire life. It seems to be a recurring thought.

Keith's breath hitches and as he gets closer, his movements become desperate and needy for  _ more, more, fuck right there, Shiro— _

He's close too, but this is about Keith. He just wants to be good for Keith. His metal hand wraps around his cock, stroking along to the rhythm of his thrusts as Keith's back arches and he squirms beneath him, hips bucking with need. 

"That's it, baby. Fuck, you're so good, Keith." 

When Keith comes, it's with a strangled moan, and as he clenches around Shiro, as his nails—no, they feel like outright  _ claws— _ dig into his shoulders, Shiro can't help but quickly follow Keith in chasing down that addictive, full bodied pleasure.

Some moments later, Shiro rolls off of him, and laying on his back as he catches his breath. He's content to rest there for the moment, to soak up the tension and relief that comes from having a spectacular orgasm. Keith prioritizes cleaning up before indulging in such spaces, which is fine. Shiro can take the moment to clean himself up as well.

It allows him the opportunity to see his cum dripping out of him as Keith disappears into the bathroom. When he returns a few minutes later, he settles further down on the bed, once more aligned with his hips. Keith’s hand runs over the length of his flaccid cock. “Thanks for the meal.”

Shiro’s cheeks are burning as he looks down at this ridiculous man. He’s going to be the death of him one day and he’s perfectly content with that.


End file.
